The King in the Woods
by AnnEllspethRaven
Summary: A light, non-canonical Thranduil piece incorporating the folklore elements of roses and the Counting Crows (or in this case, Ravens) rhyme. Original female character. Rated M for explicit description of a suicide attempt and sexual content (consensual F/M marriage). Artwork by Heidi Holder, from the children's book "Crows."
1. Chapter 1

Ani walked the paths skirting the small Irish village on a sunny summer's day. The kind which tinged the air with the smell of grasses and dew, and everything in sight was a feast for weary eyes. She'd already walked seven miles, from where her bicycle was parked at the next outpost of civilization, distantly to the east. But she had not come on account of the rustic scenery; she'd targeted this sleepy enclave of humanity on account of the woods. Specifically, remote woods, about which compelling local superstition guaranteed that no one would search her out, or ever find her once she was gone. The ravens followed her on her walk, as always, telling the pattern of her life. Her time on earth had not been extraordinary, unless it was for her illness and this one stamp of something mystical. Since she could hear or remember, she'd known the folklore Poem of the Ravens. For her, it was real. They were ever around, ever above, ever outside her windows. Their prophecy could be straight up truthful or they could be tricksters...like the sun and the stars, they allowed her to mark the flow of her days, with vague inklings of what each one might hold. That one, and one only, often followed spoke of the misfortunes of her existence.

Last night had been her best scouting effort. At the pub, she'd bought rounds of drinks for the locals, presenting herself as a charmed tourist who sincerely wanted to hear tales and folklore. She pretended to be suitably appreciative and alarmed, by the nonsense tales of a King in the woods, and the fate of those who went in never to return. She nursed her drinks carefully, and acted the part. Her appreciation at the end of the evening was genuine, though. They'd confirmed for her that at last, the woods of Lasgalen would to suit her purpose. Having battled debilitating depression for all of her life, and having nothing in particular by which to justify the agony of continuing to fight, she determined that her misery would finally end. On her terms. Of course, she had to rebuff a few of the local men hitting on her, it was a given. Though she downplayed it in every way possible, she was a stunning beauty. Taller than average for a woman, with a lovely figure, long red hair and green eyes, she caught many an eye. And as always, she looked straight ahead, uninterested.

Her choice did not sadden her, because the long years of torment had washed away anything resembling self pity. If she had taken a dime for how many times she'd been told how much she had to live for, by the transient yet well-meaning people in her life, she would have had this holiday paid for. None of it mattered to her, and none of it had ever really mattered to anyone else, either. Which was a tragedy. She was not only physically exquisite; intelligence, articulate self-expression and a kindness of spirit were also hers. But through all of her life, no one remained long enough to see those things. Grief and instability of mood consumed her on a daily basis, driving any would-be friends far away.

Finally, she caught sight of the edge of the woods. There were many birch, at the edge. She carefully looked all around, before leaving all paths and making a winding trail in the lower grasses, toward the border of the forest. She wanted no sign of her passage, no indication that anyone had ever been through here. Triumphant, she lingered at the edge of the trees to see her success, then turned to swiftly run well out of sight. At last, it was in her grasp. And she had time. The woods did have a feel of watchfulness, her sensitive perceptions told her. They were silent, ancient and to her mind, altogether inviting. Many more ravens joined the one; she now counted seven. It was fitting enough; the final journey. Walking deeper and deeper in, she listened carefully for any sound of water. While she had brought enough to suffice, finding a creek or pool would help her accomplish the task. What she discovered after about three hours' walking was nothing she could have guessed at. She entered a large clearing with a beautiful pool. Mosses covered the large stones, and dappled sunlight streamed through the thinner canopy. But inexplicably odd were the dozens of climbing roses that rambled in this place. They were all blooming, perfuming the air. "I guess it doesn't get more obvious than this," she said. She liked to talk to herself aloud, and as she was most of her own company, it was a long standing habit. There would be a little time to enjoy her surroundings, while she completed the first stage. A number of strong opioid painkillers were in her pack. They would take some of the edge off of opening her wrists, and drastically reduce her respiratory drive as she slipped away. There was no point in suffering more than need be. Opening her pack, she bit into a piece of fruit that she'd brought, and with her hands buried deep in her pack, procured a number of the tablets. With a practiced hand, she drank them down with the water she carried, as she ate. This was seven times a normal dosage, but she did not trust the tablets alone to do the job. Having used these drugs all her life for terrible headaches, she was fairly tolerant of their effects. And now, she could afford to drink until she was no longer thirsty, thanks to the pool.

The oddest thing she'd carried in here was a bucket. If she were to have been asked along the way, she would have said it was for picking berries. But its real purpose was to have water in which to immerse her wrists. For a moment she considered going into the pool to complete her task, but it would be wrong. This was a beautiful place, and the water did not deserve to be fouled with a rotting corpse. An eighth raven now joined the others milling in the branches overhead. "That is very thoughtful of you," she told the birds, smiling. Visiting the pool to fill her bucket, the absolutely clear water almost seemed to glow, with verdant color reflected above and below. A suitable place away from the pool had a rock against which she planned to sit, and she set the bucket down here. Lastly, she used her exquisitely sharp knife to cut three of the roses. Surely this place would not begrudge her a last emblem of beauty. Two Ravens left. Six. "Should I not have?" she asked them. To be thought a thief, even by them, was not her intention. But their meanings were not always easy to reconcile, and she'd learned long ago to take them lightly on most occasions. It took only a moment to work the three stems into the plaits of the long braid of her hair. Seating herself finally against the rock, she enjoyed smelling the roses and touching the soft petals as she waited. Now two more ravens returned, to join their companions on the nearby tree branch. She chuckled. "What will you do with yourselves, after today?" Some of them croaked back in reply, shuffling and rearranging themselves.

King Thranduil had known, the moment she entered his domain. For the last hour, he had tracked her. _They never really seemed to learn._ His palace was inescapable, and his dungeons secure. The cooperative ones he allowed to serve him, and the uncooperative ones tended to perish in a matter of months, locked in their cells. He did not kill them, but they wasted away nevertheless. Why this was the case had never concerned him; they were trespassers that deserved no better. It amused him, to observe intruders at a distance, capturing them after he frightened them half to death at the moment he revealed himself. He had to admit, though, that this one seemed different. For an Edain, she was remarkably beautiful. And she had brought ravens with her...he had never seen this before. They were far from his favorite birds; they still carried the memories of years of conflict with the Dwarves, for him. He watched with curiosity as she filled the bucket and cut his roses...which made him frown. He saw it as a serious transgression against the wholeness of this, his special sanctuary. He realized she spoke to the birds, referencing something he did not understand, and was now thoroughly intrigued. She seated herself with her back to him, and did not seem to be doing much of anything. He was patient, and could wait. He hoped, on some level, that this one would cooperate. There was something about her, and it had been long since one of them came that might offer him some companionship in their captivity.

After about fifteen minutes, she felt the drugs pulling at her strongly. It was precisely the correct time. Her medical skills were well developed, and she decisively and deeply opened each of her wrists with no sound nor grimace, making sure to sever the radial arteries on each cut. Left arm first, then quickly the right, keeping the spurting blood elegantly over the bucket. Lowering both of her forearms into the water, she watched it begin, dispassionately. From time to time she rubbed her arms together, to ensure that the incisions could not clot. Some minutes later, she could feel herself slipping away in earnest. The birds began a raucous cry, and then went utterly silent. She watched as two flew away. One last time, she spoke to them."You are mistaken, there is nothing left to steal."

Smiling, her dimming eyes took in the lovely clearing. "I want to stay here always, in these beautiful woods." Her eyes closed.


	2. Chapter 2

A silken voice a little ways behind her disturbed her last moments. "As it so happens, your wish will be granted. You have trespassed, and cut my roses. You are mine now, and will serve me in payment of what you owe."

Ani smiled weakly; whoever he was, he was too late. She did not move except to lift her head slightly. With her last effort she said, "Let me know how that works out. Though, I am sorry, about the roses." Her eyes closed, and she passed into unconsciousness.

Thranduil had heard many replies in his long years to his announcement, but nothing even coming close to that. He stepped around to face her, and his eyes widened at the sight. She was deathly pale, tinging blue."No," he whispered, stunned. He threw the bucket aside, its grisly contents splashing in the distance. He held his hands tightly over the incisions and immediately began healing her; she was not yet completely gone. He had never found an Edain injury that was irreparable. It worked by transference; he took their injuries into himself, trading out his vigor and wholeness; then his own immortal body healed quickly. He could direct his magic to address any impairment to the body, except poisons. To these he was not resistant. He had not seen her ingest the tablets, and too late, he had taken all of her medication into himself. His physiology allowed for most things, but not this. He only had a fleeting moment before the effects claimed him, and his body slumped forward against hers.

The better part of an hour went by, before she began to wake. Why she was awake, and why there was an inexplicable heaviness on her, were two things she could not fathom. "This is a medical impossibility," she said to no one in particular, just before she forced her eyes open. Everything began coming back to her, and she realized the weight was the body of...whoever has spoken to her, at the end? She held up her wrists, to see them intact. "You have got to be kidding me." Seven ravens lined the tree. She squeezed her eyes shut, groaning. "He was the thief, not me. He stole my death."

With effort, she worked herself out from under him; he was quite heavy. Several conflicting thoughts occurred to her, and she sorted them aloud. "The man who spoke made it clear he will imprison me. It stands to reason that this must be the speaker. He is unconscious. I am alive and unharmed. He is the only one who could have saved me. I should finish what I started, or leave. He...looks extremely unwell." She rolled him onto his back; he was very pale. Falling automatically into her medical training, she began to examine him. She could find a weak pulse at his neck, but was having trouble with his wrists. His pupils, that were surrounded by dazzlingly steel blue irises, were constricted. She pinched him, hard, and got a small response; he was not absolutely unconscious. "You appear...drugged, whoever you are."

He wore strange, beautiful clothing that she had no desire to cut off, so she looked at what she could. Exposing his chest by unbuttoning his tunic, she listened to his heart directly this way...it was slower than she'd like, but strong. And a little irregular. His respirations sounded clear, but they were disturbingly shallow. And also irregular. Pushing up his sleeves, it was then that she saw his wrists. "This cannot be." Her own cuts were on him, but they were already healing; the lines of angry incisions were there but already closed, with the redness diminishing.

"This is outside my experience, but if I had to guess, you are more than looking drugged. You are poisoned." She reached to the sides and back of his head in case she was missing a head injury, and felt the tips of his ears. "It isn't just who are you, is it? What are you? Are you the King in the woods? And no matter, I have to get you sitting up, so you can breathe more easily."

He was incredibly heavy. "How can you weigh so much, for your size? You are like sacks of cement..." After effort that left her gasping for air, she had positioned his body as hers had been. He now could fill his lungs more easily, with gravity working for him. She continued to pinch him, slightly encouraged that he still responded when she did so.

"Every piece of common sense would say I should leave you and run, King in the woods. But you are very ill on account of me, and now I must watch over you. Besides, I have time to finish what I started. You must be decent on some level, or you would not have saved me. Waste of your effort, though. Stay with me, you can do this."

She had a light coat in her pack, that she folded carefully and put behind his head. Looking on him, she was unable to resist stroking his face with her fingers. He was uncommonly beautiful, like a marble statue that lived. As day grew into night it was cold for her, she stayed close to him. The nattering birds still croaked on occasion in the branches above. He was like a furnace, honestly. Frequently, she listened to his heart and his breathing, which seemed to be getting slowly stronger. And yet, there would be intermittent times when he seemed to be failing. She shook him and pinched him when this happened, guilt coming over her. "Please, King in the woods. You cannot die. Do not add the burden of your loss to the grief I already carry. You are too lovely." Tears fell from her eyes, at the fear of it. This went on for hours, and eventually, the frightening episodes ceased.

"I believe your vital functions are out of danger, King in the woods. I have no idea if dangerous things roam your forest at night that might harm you. Apparently I am going to stupidly listen to the ravens, who tell me there is a journey here, and remain with you. I don't really care. My life outside of these woods is over, and there is nothing you can do to me that would matter. You look like a King, if that is what you really are. You will be well, soon enough. I will watch over you."

From time to time she chattered, pinching him, ensuring his vital signs were growing stronger. It was cold and she was tiring, and each time she lingered longer against the warmth of his body. Late at night, sleep took her. The now steady beat of his heart lulled her, with her hand still coiled around his wrist.

Thranduil woke in the early hour before dawn. He felt weight against him, and opened his eyes, frowning mightily. He tried to puzzle out why the Edain woman was asleep on him, holding his arm, why the buttons of his tunic were undone, and why he was waking up in his forest. He felt the softness behind his head and removed her article of clothing. Something had gone wrong, when he healed her. He had ill-formed memories of a woman's voice, pleading with him to live. Had she cared for him? He was not pleased, but would find out soon enough. Lifting her easily in his arms, he carried her back to his palace as she slept.

He laid her on his bed, and covered her with a blanket. By the light of the torches, he had to admit her form was pleasing; she was indeed fair in appearance. Why had she not run? He had been unaware long enough that she could have been the first to have ever succeeded in escaping him, and yet she had not. He was baffled. But now that he had his prize secured, he had no intention of losing it. Magically, he sealed his chamber door.


	3. Chapter 3

Thranduil sat in a chair, and looked on. She woke with the early morning light, her mind filled with darkness as her torment once again spread through her mind. "No, please, no more," she said softly, trying to return to sleep. This time, she was fortunate, and slipped away again for a time.

Later she woke again, rubbing her eyes, feeling a little better. The sight of a lavish chamber met her gaze; soft fabrics were under her hands. She pushed herself up on her elbow, rubbing her eyes to see beautiful furnishings. Twisting her body around, she saw the King in the woods, or whoever he was, seated in a chair and watching her with eyes more intently blue than she recalled from yesterday. He wore robes of silver, and a circlet with a gem set at his brow...and was altogether lovely in appearance, yet cold in demeanor.

"You are well?" she asked him with visible concern. The only reply was a single nod of his head. She lowered her head and sighed. His death would not be on her conscience. After a long pause, she inquired further. "And I am your captive?" Again, a single nod. She did not react, it has been the likely outcome. The price of remaining at his side was one she had freely chosen to pay.

For long minutes he stared at her, and for long minutes she levelly returned his gaze. Unplaiting her hair, she removed the three roses she had taken from him. She did not fear him, and perhaps she had a mild curiosity as to what all this was about. What did she care? He could look at her all day. It made no difference, in the end. A croaking sound caused her to look around at two black heads that poked into the open window, before swiftly departing. She rolled her eyes. Finally he spoke.

"I have questions. I will warn you that it is very inadvisable to try to deceive me, or to refuse to answer. What are you called?"

Her head tilted. "Ani for short, Anastasia for long. And I am many things, but I am not untruthful. May I ask the same question of you?"

"I am Thranduil, your King. You will address me as 'my King', or 'my Lord' from now on."

The corners of her mouth curled up. Of course, King in the woods. King Thranduil in the woods, she thought.

Contrary to his expectations, she remained silent.

"Why? Why were you taking your own life?"

She faintly smiled, and replied in an even tone. "Because I am mentally ill and chose to die, my Lord. That is the usual reason."

His eyes flared, but he was not fully certain she was being rude to him.

"What happened to me, and why did you not run away?"

Her face grew contemplative. "I am not certain what happened, never having seen anything like that. My Lord. But I can make an educated guess from my observations. If you saved my life by taking my own injuries into yourself, you also took in a very large dose of medication that slows vital functions. I stayed because, you were poisoned, and would not have been in that circumstance but for me. I did not run away because it would have been wrong, to leave you in danger with no care. I did what I could to ensure you kept breathing, and that you were safe."

He has not expected this. "Why were you asleep on me, with my clothing undone?"

"Because, my Lord, I could not find your pulse well enough, and your breathing was badly labored and too shallow for a long time. Listening to both, through your chest wall, was the only way I could monitor you. I became very cold, whereas you were very warm. I must have fallen asleep, as I watched over you."

His otherworldly blue eyes seemed to be trying to bore through her.

"Why did you come into my woods? Surely you were warned?"

"I came because I was warned. I was looking for a place in which to disappear, a place where I would never be sought or found. I gave no credence to what I believed were superstitions. And I do apologize to you for cutting your roses, and for you encountering me as I was. Had I believed someone was here, I would have gone elsewhere." With that she stood up, approaching him slowly, with the roses in her hand. His expression betrayed no emotion. She held them out to him until he took them from her hand, and then paused, looking at him. She opened her mouth, and in a rich, beautiful voice, sang to him.

"Nobody knows, this little rose. It might a pilgrim be. Did I not take it from the ways, and give it back to thee? Only a bee will miss it, only a butterfly. Ah little rose how easy, for such as thee to die."

With the faintest smile, she retreated to the bed. Her song was captivating, to him, and left him feeling more puzzled than ever.

"You cannot leave. You are bound to my service now. I have desired a companion."

This was becoming surreal. "No one has ever wished my company, my Lord, except very temporarily, on account of my appearance. I would point out to you that a suicidally depressed person may not be the best of choices. Yet here I am."

"You do not fear me?"

She looked at him, and only now did he see a flicker of what haunted her. "There is nothing that you can do to me that would cause me to fear you, my Lord. I have long had no hope, and am past caring."

His eyes narrowed. "You would yet throw your life away?"

"I would not choose those words to describe my decision, but, yes. You do not walk in my shoes, or know what I have been forced to endure."

"I forbid it."

She looked at the ceiling, laughing softly. "You may do that, my Lord." For all the good it will do, she thought.

"You will not leave my sight."

"Then is this a bad time to say, my Lord, that I have need of the use of a toilet? Would you accept my word that I will not attempt to harm myself, while thus occupied? Or would you prefer to look on?" There was not a hint of sarcasm or mockery in her voice.

Thranduil was not used to being tied up in knots, and this Edain woman was managing it. He stood, gesturing. "Over here." Ani followed him to the door he indicated, and went in. It was an interesting and very sanitary facility, with everything obvious enough. Though, she'd seen nothing quite like it, with its continuously flowing water system. Emerging, she thanked him, and resumed her seat.

A long silence ensued. Ani finally spoke. "May I ask you a question, my Lord?"

He gave a single nod.

"With respect, what are you? You are not human, unless I am much mistaken."

He tilted his head somewhat higher. "I am Elven. An elf."

He offered no more, and she declined to ask further. What that meant exactly, she did not know, but neither did it matter. At least she had a word to use.

Their verbal impasse continued, until Ani was having difficulty sitting upright any longer at the edge of the bed; her back muscles were not strong enough. She slid to the floor, so that she might have the bed against which to rest. He said nothing, but raised his eyebrows. Given the scintillating conversation, she felt free to let her eyes roam over the objects in the room. Books, tables, papers, cabinets, glassware, mirror, wardrobe; standard things. She was not so impolite as to crane her head around. It occurred to her that this seemed like a cavern of sorts; everything about the walls was of carven stone, and the room was cool. As the hours wore on, she became very thirsty. Her mental health often left her uninterested in food, but she did require water.

"May I please be given some water to drink, my Lord?"

Only then did Thranduil realize how much time was passing, and that he had offered her nothing.

He rose and immediately poured water from a pitcher into an elaborate glass. It was a work of art. She resumed her seat on the bed, seeing what he was doing.

"I will have food brought here. You are hungry?"

"A little, my Lord," she said, taking the glass and draining it as quickly as possible without behaving atrociously. He offered to refill it, which she accepted without hesitation.

"Why were you sitting on the floor?"

"My back is not strong, my Lord. It hurts to hold myself up, after a time."

He immediately pulled out a chair and placed it opposite his. "Sit," he ordered.

As she complied, it struck her with a sense of bitter amusement that this...elf...had just asked her more questions about herself than anyone she could recall who was not a mental health professional.

"Thank you."

"Thank you, my Lord," he corrected. The corners of her mouth curled up slightly.

"Thank you, my Lord," she indulged him.

"This is amusing to you?" he asked, with some ire in his voice.

"It is...different, my Lord. And even somewhat charming. But it is also extra syllables, perhaps. I am sure I will manage, once I become accustomed to it."

She was baffling to him. And yet, he found that he liked her conversation. No one, ever, had spoken quite like this. After so many years of life, novelty was at a premium for him.

"How did you occupy yourself, formerly?"

"I am a writer. Was a writer. I worked from my home."

"You spent all your time at this?"

"No. The remainder of my time was spent...managing myself. Or trying to. Reading, walking, growing things. I lived quietly, away from others."

"You had family, friends?"

"No."

"I would think that someone with your appearance would have many friends."

She stared at him unflinchingly. 'May I ask, my Lord, do you have many friends?"

"No."

"Then with respect, my Lord, I rest my case, as your appearance is very beautiful. I am better off alone. No one survives my company long before they prefer to be elsewhere."

"I do not understand, Anastasia. Your company seems pleasant."

She looked down, smiling. "As I mentioned, my Lord, I am mentally ill. Right now I seem well enough. But I do not remain this way all the time. It is the rest of me, that no one can apparently long abide. I am afraid to say, you will see soon enough. And I will not fault you for sending me elsewhere."

He frowned. "I will be the judge of that," he said.

"Of that I have no doubt, my Lord," she said with a tinge of regret.

He leaned over her, his face in an expression that should have been intimidating. "I did not heal your body in order to lose you. You will pay your debt to me. I suggest you reconcile yourself to that reality."

She raised her eyebrows, reflecting. He had not had the effect he intended, for her green eyes looked into his own, without a single sign of intimidation. "Nothing is impossible, my Lord, however improbable. I wish you to understand," she said slowly, "I am not attempting to provoke you. I only cannot comprehend a different outcome. I came here to end pain I can no longer endure. Neither do I understand why you care. If payment is what you demand, I will do what I can. But sooner or later, I will come undone."

He did not know what to say to this, as he did not know precisely why he cared, either. A meal was served by someone she saw was another elf; introduced as the King's steward, Galion.

She ate some of everything offered, but it seemed like little. Thranduil noticed that she was on the thin side, and paid attention to what she seemed to eat the most of. After the meal, he excused himself. "Will you give me your word that you will not leave this room unless accompanied by me?" he asked her. "Yes, my Lord, you have my word," she said expressionlessly. He did not seem to realize, she had only one place to go, and it was not outside these walls.

Once he departed, she took the opportunity to look around the room more carefully, admiring the various objects. She did not know, that he waited outside the door. The entire absence was a test of her honor. He need not have bothered. After she looked at everything she deemed not impolite to see, she curled up again on the bed. When she slept, she did not have to live with herself...so she slept a great deal.

When she woke again, he had returned, with a bundle in his arms that he set down without explanation. Rising, she took her chair once again. He continued to ask her about herself, and received answers that were usually witty at the very least, and some that even made him laugh. It turned out that she knew many stories, and he asked to hear them. Well into the night, she tried her best to amuse him, but was tiring. He saw her yawning more and more, and stopped her.

"These are for you," he gestured to the bundle. "Night clothes, and clothes for tomorrow. I will turn my back, so that you may change." He immediately did this, which she found amusing and...a little endearing. He was odd, by her standards, but she felt certain he did not intend her harm. Or rather, perhaps he was just as odd as she was, and therefore did not seem bothersome. She stripped off her own clothes, and put on what he'd given her; a tunic that went past her hips and light loose breeches.

"I am done my Lord, thank you." Turning around, he seemed pleased. He pulled back the covers. "Bed. You are tired." She looked at him, baffled, but complied. Someone had done this, long ago; she had a vague memory. Curiouser and curiouser, she thought.

He pulled the covers back over her, and the corners of her mouth curled up slightly. "What is amusing you, Ani?" he asked. She looked at him. "I do not wish to say, lest you find it impolite."

"You will tell me."

She smiled faintly. "I was musing that no one has done this for me since I was a small child, and wondered if you were about to kiss me goodnight as well."

To her great surprise, he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "Goodnight, Anastasia."

"Goodnight, my Lord". As she blinked before closing her eyes, she saw that he sat at his desk, attending to a stack of papers by the lamplight.

It was late when he attired himself for bed. Usually he slept nude, but out of regard for her, wore loose breeches. He reflected, in the moonlight that filtered in his window, on what exactly he hoped to accomplish. At the end of it, all he could come up with was that he was tired of his isolation, she was unusual and interesting to him, and strangely compelling. No one had ever not tried to run from him, and she did not flee when she alone had had an opportunity for success. Perhaps he saw a challenge, and he did not like to lose once he had determined on something. Whatever she believed was wrong with her, she was too lovely to wish for death. He would find a way.


	4. Chapter 4

Thranduil lay next to her, somewhere between thought and sleep, as was the habit of his kind. He became aware that next to him, she had begun to dream. Her breathing was restless, and eventually, agitated. He leaned up on his elbow to watch her. She slept on her side, facing away from him. He heard her inhale particularly deeply, which wakened her. A single raven perched at the windowsill, and croaked. "No" she whispered to herself, sobbing quietly. "Not again." Her body convulsed with the misery in her mind, as he looked on, uncertain what to do, or what was wrong. She whispered to herself. "It hurts, so badly. Why did you not let me go, King in the woods?" She continued to cry. Hesitating, but then deciding, he reached his arm around her and pulled her back into the warmth of his chest, holding her against him. It happened before she had time to recall where she even was.

He spoke very softly. "You are not alone, Ani. You are safe here." Never had someone done this, and it sliced through her. Her pain did not know what to do with being comforted. She cried more now, much harder. Reaching up with one hand, she held on to his arm. Finally she began to quiet, and he slowly withdrew his arm, and began rubbing her back in slow circles. Eventually, he could tell from the sound of her breathing that she had returned to sleep.

Thranduil woke before her in the morning, dressing and leaving to care for his duties. He sealed her inside, leaving magic that would tell him if she tried to open the door. She still slept when he returned, and he sat down next to her. Even for an Edain, this was a great deal of sleep. She woke from the motion of the bed, blinking. Her voice was soft and very subdued. "How are you today, my Lord?"

He answered carefully. "I am well, but I would be better if I might have your company at breakfast. Would you eat with me?"

Truthfully she did not wish to leave the bed, but that would be rude. "Yes." Standing, she walked to look out the window. Seven of them. They croaked at her in a raucous cacophony before flying away.

He could see that all was not well within her, and did not correct her for not addressing him properly. She relieved herself, then found the clothing he'd given her. A...dress. If for no other reason than that her other clothes needed cleaning, she would try it. She could care less if he saw her body, having been a nudist for years. But she had the presence of mind to realize, it might annoy him.

"My Lord, I am accustomed to others looking on me unclothed. But if the sight would offend you, please would you turn away?"

Thranduil had not expected this. Elves felt the same; he had been trying to be courteous to her. "You may do as you wish in this regard, Ani. Elves have no proscription against nudity." Nodding, she began to strip off her nightclothes, not meeting his eyes. He did not openly stare, but could not help but notice that her body was stunning. And desirable. Occupying himself with making a place to eat, he looked away. She came to him, her cheeks somewhat pink. "My Lord, I do not know how to...do this." She was holding the dress against her bosom, not being able to manage the closures that were all in the back.

He chuckled. "Turn around." He moved her tangled hair, and gasped. Her back was taken up with a large tattoo of ravens. A large one in flight was at the center, and seven others, with their wings intertwined, formed a circle all around it.

After studying it for a moment, without comment, he set her dress in order.

"Ani, sit. Your hair needs combing." She raised her eyebrows. Frankly, she hated dealing with it.

He gestured to a chair. Her hair was quite long, because she could never bother to get around to cutting it. Most days it was twisted into an unruly knot, and when she finally had to, she combed the mess. Patiently, he worked out all the tangles. He worked attractive braids into it. Were it not for her ears, she could pass for an elf, he thought. It was then that he noticed that the edges of her ears were scarred but faded on each side, where his own ears came to points, as if the injury had happened a very long time ago.

"Ani, why do the ravens follow you?"

Her body tensed. There was no way she would tell him of this, now. She barely knew him, and it was the most private thing, the only private thing, in her existence. And he had just seen the tattoo. Yet, she could answer without lying or revealing herself. "I do not know, my Lord." It was true, in that she had never know the reason.

His eyes narrowed at the obvious evasion. "You are certain, that there is nothing more to tell?" Now, he had her backed into a corner. She slowly stood and turned to him, and spoke with earnest respect. "There is more. But, I cannot tell you now. If I may plead for one thing, it is that you would allow me to speak of this in my own time. The birds will not harm you. I have no desire to earn your anger. Please, please, grant me this favor."

He considered for a long time. "I will allow you this. But expect from this moment onward that when you are asked a question, I will require an answer." She bowed her head deeply to him. "Thank you, my Lord. I will not forget this kindness."

They ate, and he enjoyed her conversation. Her disposition seemed sunnier, now.

"Ani, if we leave the room, may I have your word that you will remain with me?"

"Yes, my Lord." He led her out, offering his arm to her. Showing her the Palace, he explained its history.

"How did this come to be here? How can nobody know of it?"

"It has always been here, since long before your kind occupied these lands. Most of my people have gone, but a few of us remain. We are content here, in the small area we continue to claim for ourselves."

She considered what he was not explicitly saying. Which was, that he was far older than he appeared to be. It mattered not. How interesting, that someone could actually want to live for so long. Was that why he had bothered to save her?

After they ate, he showed her the vegetable gardens, library, kitchen. At one time these vast spaces must have been filled with activity, but now the needs of those who remained were much reduced. She was pleased to see the library, until she realized that everything in it was written in a flowing script she did not understand. "My Lord, is there anything here in my language?" He considered. "I do not believe so." She nodded her head, but the look of disappointment on her face did not escape him.

The gardens also attracted her interest; she would very much like to come here to work someday.

By the time they returned, she felt...in need of being clean. "My Lord, is it possible I might wash? Bathe?"

He turned. It is lovely, she thought, the way his hair falls. It looks like silk.

"Come," he said. He led her down the corridor, to a nearby door. Opening it, there was a marvelous pool inside of a brightly lit room. It reminded her a bit of the thermal pools in some natural places...which is exactly what it was. As she stared, she felt his hands undoing her dress for her, so that she could remove the rest of it herself. He indicated to her soaps, towels, and other necessities. Seating himself, he began to describe the hydrology of the area, and this pool. It constantly refilled with clean, warm water, and drained below. She thought it very clever.

Later, in his chamber, he slid a quill and a piece of parchment in front of her. "Write what manner of books pleases you." She looked at him in surprise. It did not seem usual, for a captive to be treated as he was treating her. Considering carefully, she wrote only a few words before putting down the quill: "Shakespeare. Melville. Poe. Dickens." Ani felt very curious about this. She badly wanted to ask how it was possible for something like books to come in from outside the forest. But as he appeared to be granting her a gift for no reason other than kindness, she deemed it prudent to remain silent. Though she did venture to ask, obliquely. "My Lord, does anyone ever leave these woods?"

A cold and angry expression washed over his face. "Long ago, there was one. And she was banished for it." Ani realized she had walked onto dangerous ground. "Please forgive me the question, my King," she said softly, bowing her head. "I did not mean to offend." No more was said.

Thranduil's isolation was not, in fact, complete. There had been an Edain man, perhaps twenty years prior. He had been badly beaten by others of his own kind, and left for dead not so very far inside the borders of the wood. Thranduil saved his life and claimed his service, but the man had humbly begged for his freedom, offering the King anything, if it were granted him. Thranduil accepted, and required him to live in the nearby village, and never reveal what he had seen. To warn off the curious, to procure small things from the world of the Edain, and to report anything that would affect the Elves, were the kinds of tasks with which he was charged. It was made abundantly clear that should he disobey or fail in his duties, that his life would be forfeit. The man, Liam, had gratefully accepted and proven flawlessly loyal. Thranduil sent a summons with his mind, knowing that Liam would report to him under the cover of darkness.

In the late hours, a soft knock came at the chamber door, and Thranduil left Ani asleep, to deliver the parchment to his servant. Liam carefully pocketed the parchment, and the jewel offered in payment. The elf king was generous, and the money left from the fulfillment of these services allowed Liam a secure means of living. Thranduil turned and was about to return to his quarters, when he heard the man speak. "My King," he said, "You asked me once to tell you of anything that might be of importance to your forest realm."

Thranduil wheeled back. "Yes?"

Liam said, "I will do my best, my Lord. A woman came to the village not three days ago, passing through. She was very beautiful, with red hair and green eyes, and she asked about the woods. I did as you instructed, and warned her away. Word came back to us, from the neighboring village, that ravens followed her. Though, she has not been seen since.

My Lord, if you will forgive me, there is a story that all here in the village know and tell. That once long ago, there was a lady of your realm that fell in love with a man, leaving your forest in order to be with him. And that she was banished by you, on account of it. The man got the Lady with child and abandoned her, leaving her heartbroken. She lived near the village, making out as best she could. According to the tale, ravens came to her, to offer her some comfort in her despair. The babe was born, but not so long after, the lady lost the will to live and faded away. The child was taken to be cared for, though none can say by whom. But, not before it was known to all that the ravens now stayed with the little girl. It may well be a foolish tale of the old wives, but I felt it was my duty to tell you." Liam bowed deeply, promising to complete his errand soon. Thranduil acknowledged the man with a single nod of his head.

As he returned to his chambers, his head spun. He knew it was no wives' tale, for that was exactly what had transpired. Beriadanwen, an elleth, had broken his laws and refused his counsel. Her actions and her foolishness had jeopardized the safety and secrecy of all of them. He would never forgive her, for the judgement she had forced him to render. But that there had been a child, of this he did not know. And that this child might now be asleep in his bed...it was much to consider.

For the next week, Ani lived much like this. He rarely left her, and his company was not burdensome. She found that she enjoyed more than tolerated him, in spite of the underlying awareness that she was more or less on a suicide watch. Every night, she woke in mental agony. And every night, he held and soothed her with gentle words and caresses. After even this short time, she realized that his help and kindness was making her torment bearable. Yet by day she did not speak of it, and neither did he. That she spent each night in his bed, held by him, did not strike her as odd. Having been hospitalized, poked, prodded, tested, treated, drugged, restrained, and monitored, she had taught herself not to care. She had no vanity or pride, in this area. It would not occur to her that he would desire her or find her appealing. Her condition had long robbed her of carnal thoughts; those belonged to others.

Past the first few days, she could have told him that he need not watch her so closely. That he cared, for whatever reason, was obvious. Even in the worst of her despair and longing for relief, she would not have had the heart to inflict the discovery of her dead body on even a total stranger, much less him. Her time would come, once he tired of her. And that he would tire of her, she felt certain. There was a reason she had no friends. Nobody in their right mind would sign up to care for someone such as her, who did not ever respond to treatment.

One afternoon he watched her from his chair, as she stood at the window, appearing to smell the air. Which is exactly what she was doing; her olfactory sense was well developed and the scents of the forest brought her enjoyment. "Come here, Anastasia," he said. There was a different tone to his voice. She walked to him, waiting. "Sit." Uncertain, as there was no chair, she said, "My Lord?" He took her waist, and pulled her into his lap. "Sit." The corners of her mouth curled up. "Thank you for clarifying, my Lord." She met his eyes evenly. He reached his hand to her face, drawing her to him. His lips brushed hers, waiting for her response. Surprised but uncaring, her lips parted for him. She had no experience and little idea what exactly to do; but it was obvious, what he wanted. It cost her nothing. He kissed her, and for every small thing that he did, she noted it and imitated him. The sensations were interesting and not unpleasant. How odd, that she had to enter a forest to die in order to ever be kissed by someone she could tolerate. She realized, she felt fondly toward him. He had treated her kindly, whatever his first words to her had been. If this was being his prisoner and servant, there were worse things.

Thranduil watched her for a sign of feeling or response, and was puzzled. She accepted him, and was making an obvious effort to please him, but there was something different. He enjoyed himself thus for a time, tasting and exploring her mouth, and then embraced her and stood up.

"Would you like to take a walk in the forest? I trust you will still honor your promise not to leave me?"

"Yes to both, my Lord." She tilted her head, finding his words a little odd. While she could not be certain, he appeared to be physically powerful. How could she leave him even if she wanted to? That he could both outrun and restrain her, she had little doubt. They strolled under the tall trees, and he told her his memories of the forest, and how it had changed. This interested her greatly. The smells and the color lifted the weight that more or less always hung over her mind, for a time. His reward came when he said something that amused her, and she smiled, really smiled, for the first time since he had taken her. His heart lurched at the sight, and he had to confront that his feelings had moved well beyond viewing her as a servant or a repair project. He was enjoying his new companion, more all the time. Often he took her in his embrace, kissing her. He let her understand that she had permission to caress his face and hair, and take his hand. She would respond but not initiate, though she often sought his hand, which seemed to comfort her. If he embraced her, she would lean into him, and hold him tightly. As they walked, hand in hand, they entered a clearing. The ravens came in a shrieking cloud. Twelve of them alighted on the branches above her. Freezing at the sight of them, she counted no less than five times, unable to believe her eyes. In all her life, this had never happened. Tears began to stream down her face, and she sobbed. He did not understand, though he saw clearly now that somehow, in a manner in which he could not perceive, the birds were a message. "Ani, what is the matter?" he asked, kindly. "I cannot yet tell you," she wailed. He sighed, and comforted her. She held his hand tightly as they returned home, and would not speak.

Sooner or later, he reasoned, he would take her for his pleasure, but he was in no hurry. In his long years, he had kept certain of the Edain women in this way. He treated them with courtesy, and he had been more than able to please his partners. But as they had been touched by others before, he would not take them in marriage even if he could have found one to whom he felt close enough. It was only possible for him to bond fully with someone who was for him alone. It saddened him too, that their lives were comparatively so short, but it was the way of their kind. On occasion, the sense of companionship and the pleasures of intimacy were worth the eventual loss. Though, another thought left him uneasy. Was she truly Edain? It had been thousands of years since he had seen a half-Elven, and there had been precious few of them even then.

A particularly fine day dawned, and she rose early to see two ravens at the window. She sighed, wistful. He approached behind her. Turning, she looked at him, finding the resolve to voice her desire. "My Lord, there is something I would ask, though I realize you may not grant it. I would very much like to walk outside, alone, for a time. Would you accept my word that I will keep your commands, and allow me this?" He frowned. Sooner or later, he would have to trust her. It was the Sooner part, that he disliked. Yet she could have escaped long ago, and had been flawlessly true to her spoken word. "I will permit it." He walked her to the doors, saying only, "Do not stay away too long." It surprised her, and she was touched. Bowing her head to him, she walked away. He saw the two ravens cavort around her as she found a path.

The smells of the humus and the damp in the forest floor were intoxicating. Often noticing small things growing, or attached to a leaf or tree, she stopped to look. And smell. Unwittingly she found that she had taken a path that returned to the clearing where first she had met him. It was now a difficult memory for her, one which she regretted. "I could not have known," she told herself aloud. Reflecting on what he had done for her, then and since, she felt ashamed, and sat down to cry. The ravens assembled again, this time eleven of them. Wonder came into her eyes. "Is that why?" she asked. "Then things have changed, more than I imagined." Rising, she took time to smell his roses, without harming them. She touched the softness of the petals, and brushed them against her cheek. They reminded her of his touch. Her heart felt lighter. She sang a song, and the woods shimmered from the sound of her voice.

Thranduil had not trusted her fully. When he granted permission, he tracked her as well, at a very wide distance. He was too skilled of a woodsman, and could escape detection if he chose. Her song stole his heart. He had forgotten that she could sing well, so preoccupied was he with other matters during those first days. When she was finished, she turned to walk back, having no wish to abuse his trust. With each step, she confronted that even had he placed no restrictions whatsoever upon her, she would not depart from these woods. The outside world was dead to her now; her heart was here, with him. The eleven ravens assembled again, on a nearby branch in front of her. She paused, considering, and spoke aloud. "My Lord, are you nearby? I would not fault you if you followed me, but if you are here I would ask to speak with you." She waited for a time, staying still. The ravens did not move. "Please, my Lord?"

He came silently behind her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I am here, Anastasia. What is it?"

"There is something I need to tell you , my Lord." She tentatively reached for his hands, and the words came haltingly. "It is not the easiest to say. I came to your woods to end my life, and because of you, I did not succeed. I never took the time to really explain to you the reason why, though. You are aware of what happens to me, at night, though you do not understand what it feels like. It is only since I came here, that it has been limited to occurring only at night. For as long as I can remember, almost all day, every day, I have lived with a level of pain in my mind that would be the physical equivalent of being run through with knives every waking minute. I would not ask for anyone to live as I have. I did not flippantly want to throw my life away. I wanted to live, like everyone else, but I could no longer bear what I was experiencing. Since you took me, you have lifted some of that burden. It is still a problem, but it is now a problem I can use what strength I have to endure. I want to live, with you. I would not ever run from you. Run to what, living the way I did, with torment that never stopped? The only hope I have ever had, the only relief I have ever felt, has been through your kindness to me. If you chained me, my bonds would not be stronger than this. I have never asked your forgiveness, for what you found me doing that day, and what it cost you to save me, but I ask it now. I had no way of knowing that anywhere in this world, there was some hope for me. I was wrong, and I admit it to you now." Lowering her gaze, she released his hands. At least she had said it, though there was one thing more.

"Look at me, Ani." Her eyes lifted to his, once again. "I forgive you. It makes my heart glad, to hear this.." He drew her into his arms, and held her tightly. Together, they returned to the Palace.

Yet more days later, she woke at night not with mental grief, but with aching breasts that were painful to the touch, and stabbing, wrenching pains in her abdomen. In this strange new life, she had completely forgotten her menstrual cycle. Sitting up, she saw that he was turned away from her. Her foggy mind knew she needed to leave the bed; her blood would begin to flow in earnest, very soon, and she had nothing to use. And no drugs. Every month this was a painful and difficult experience that would usually lay her low for two days, even with prescriptions. Checking herself, she was still dry. Stripping off her breeches as she left the bed, she lurched for the door as another cramp caught her, doubling her over. She went down the hallway, seeking the bathing room. Gravity now pulled the pooled blood out of her, staining her thighs as she walked. At least both the bed and her clothes had not been soiled. She used her hand to wipe away at it. Groaning softly as the cramps worsened quickly, she found the door and entered, making for the pool. She worked her tunic off with her clean hand and tossed it aside, somehow managing to keep it unstained as well. A little comfort in the heated water was better than nothing, but at the moment it was difficult to move. Was this worse than usual, or was it always this bad but the pain medications blocked it? She tried to push in on her womb, anything to mash down on the pain. Closing her eyes, she waited for the contraction to pass, panting on her knees from the pain of it.

Thranduil's rest was disturbed by a sense that something was not right. He saw that she was not in bed, and that the chamber door was open. He flew out of bed, with his anger mounting. She had promised him, she would not leave the chamber without him. Light came from the door, in the bathing room, and he ran to it. He saw blood, and he saw her on the floor, and his heart lurched.

"What have you done?" he said, grabbing her roughly. Ire and panic were in his voice.

She answered through a haze of intense discomfort.

"I am unharmed, my Lord. It is my monthly cycle. I am..." Her words were cut off, as she cried out from the pain of the next contraction, trying to breathe through it. His grip on her relaxed a little as he tried to understand what was going on. "Please, I need to be in the water."

"What is wrong with you, Ani?" He managed, somehow, to get this out in a more or less level tone of voice.

"When my bleeding starts, it hurts, very badly. I do not have the medicines I usually take to help."

Her formality toward him was nearly gone, but he could see her pain and now the difficulty was clear. He tried to think. "Do not leave the room," he said, rising and leaving. "Not a problem," she muttered weakly at his retreating back. With effort, she rolled herself into the heated water, kneading at her lower abdomen.

Thranduil returned shortly. "Drink this, all of it. It will help your pain and release the blood from your childbed." She did not hesitate. Significant relief came over her, almost immediately.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you."

"Ani, you promised me you would not leave the room without me. You left."

Her eyes widened. She spoke slowly, with a look of remorse. "I... did. I was not thinking, I woke up in pain and desired the hot water, so nearby. I did not deliberately disobey, it was an impulsive mistake. Please, my Lord, forgive me."

He regarded her. She was not being untruthful, and the contrition in her voice was genuine. "I forgive you. But should you be ill or in need again, you are to wake me."

"I will, my Lord. I am sorry, because I now realize what you must have thought." She paused. "I do not fault you, for not trusting me." He did not respond, to this.

"Anastasia, you need to clear the blood in your childbed from your body. If you bring yourself to a climax, it will do this and keep the pain from returning. I will leave you be."

He stood and turned away.

"My Lord," she said with a little awkwardness. "I cannot...do this. I have never been...able to." It was true. She'd read about the...method, but hours of trying this on her own had never accomplished anything more than perhaps the vaguest sensation of ...something.

Thranduil stood, and stared ahead, as if lost in an inner dilemma. He turned again, having come to a decision, and began removing his clothes to join her in the water. "Come here, Ani," he said. He took her in his arms, and began to kiss her. She returned the same. He tasted her skin, caressed her breasts. She looked on, fascinated that he would do this, and intrigued to watch what unfolded. The sensations, again, were not unpleasant. She could not respond like a normal person, but was grateful that he would consider touching her in this way. Unsure what to do, she reached to hold onto him. He tilted her back to hold her in his arms, taking her nipple gently in his mouth. She liked this, as well as the soft feel of his hands on her. His hands went to her abdomen, and then traced down to her nether parts. He feathered his fingers over her cleft, slowly and lightly teasing. She looked at him, her eyes full of interest and curiosity. But not desire. He gently looked to slide his finger into her and felt...resistance. His eyes widened.

"You are untouched, Ani?" he asked softly.

"Yes, my Lord. You were the first to ever kiss me."

This was unexpected, and changed everything. He realized now, what he'd seen in her was raw inexperience. She'd had no idea what to do.

He regarded her, and searched his heart to find that he wanted to make the commitment. Whoever she might actually be, he loved her. "If I take you in this way, Anastasia, it must be with your consent and understanding. You are a maid. If I have you for my own, you will be bound to only me, and I to only you."

She was stunned, that he would offer her this...and equally sure that she wanted him. "I willingly give myself to you, my Lord. I would be honored to experience this from you." She added quietly, "I already belong to you. I love you."

His eyes widened. "I think, under the circumstances, you may call me Thranduil."

She frowned, trying to copy the pronunciation. "Thranduil."

"Almost," he said, grinning.

"I will endeavor to practice."

"Then I will see what I can do for you," he said. "But first, look at me. Keep your eyes on mine, regardless of what you feel."

She felt the touches of his hand and fingers, moving over her in ways that should be stimulating. Caressing her breasts, her mound, teasing between her legs, tracing his fingertips down the sides of her neck and throat. His eyes narrowed slightly as she watched him. He placed his hand at the side of her head, and looked intently. After some moments like this, he repeated his motions. He cupped her breast in his hand, brushing his fingers lightly over her nipple. She inhaled sharply. As his fingers traced down her side, she shuddered at his touch. When his fingers gently explored between her legs, her lips parted and she moaned very softly. She heard Thranduil say gently, "You may look away now."

Her eyes were wide from the things she'd just felt, for the first time. He raised her up, and leaned in to kiss her. A surge ran though her body that left her breathless. Without thinking, she met his lips eagerly, seeking more. He gently pulled away from her. "Be patient, Ani. I will take you in my arms. Try to relax."

He leaned her back, floating her in the steaming water, stroking her breasts and abdomen, as she looked up at him. His softest touches now set her on fire, with sensations she had only read about in books. Before she knew what had happened, he had gently worked a long finger inside of her, and was firmly stroking her in a slow rhythm. She moaned softly, as pleasure begin to take over her senses. His thumb traced the edges of her center, as his other hand wrapped underneath her to caress her breast, tugging gently from time to time at her nipple. A cry escaped her lips at the increased stimulation, and heat built within her. As her need grew, he carefully stretched her virginity until he could enter her with two fingers. Wetness coursed from her, making the movements of his fingers feel silken. When he scissored his fingers carefully inside of her, her body tensed in his arms, and she moved her hips against his motions. When he built her up to where she whimpered with longing, he lifted her body out of the pool, and laid her at the edge, with her legs still in the water. He spread her thighs, and took her with his mouth. His tongue insistently pushed into her, and licked her softly. She found one of his hands and held it tightly. He inserted his finger once more, stroking her relentlessly. Her first orgasm burst over her, as her body arched. At that moment, he stretched her with three of his fingers, so that her pleasure would mask discomfort. Her face contorted in silent ecstasy.

As she subsided, he guided her gently back into the heated water. Her blood flowed out of her from the strong contractions, and he massaged her womb from the outside. Now that she was cleansed, he knew her pain would not return.

Her eyes welled with tears. The intensity of the pleasure, the awareness of what she had long been denied, and her gratitude toward him overwhelmed her. She shook with sobs. The emotion linked to her affliction, and her mind was lost down the wrong path.

He saw. Placing his arm carefully around her shoulders, he asked her, "Ani, can you tell me what it is that happens to you? I would like to help, if I can." She buried her face in her hands. She struggled to answer, her voice shaking. "If you would allow me to answer when this has passed, it would be a kindness to me, my Lord." He firmly but gently pulled her hands from her face. "Look at me, Ani"

With great difficulty, she did as he asked. He found an entrance into her mind, to try to learn what she could not share. She had spoken of this to him, but her words did not do it justice. The mental pain he found in her was staggering, to him. And he could not see a clear reason for it. It was like water being driven onto the shore; waves of terrible misery against which she was defenseless. He'd had no idea, in spite of her explanations, that it was this bad. He did not understand the source, but he could help control it. There were paths in her mind that were far too active, and he forced them to calm. Her eyes widened in incomprehension. The pain was...gone, simply...gone. She raised her eyes to his, unable to stop openly staring in gratitude .

She responded to him, without thinking. He drew her to him, tasting her skin, kissing her. He took her hands to guide her to the same, to let her know she had equal right to touch him. He cupped her full breasts in his hands, gently massaging them. His desire was mounting, and he carried her out of the water. Taking a towel to cover both of them, he returned to the bedchamber and laid her on the soft sheets.


	5. Chapter 5

The sight of him was very beautiful, to her. Lying next to her, he took her hands and placed them on his body, encouraging her to explore him. She moved her fingers up and down his length, feeling the smooth skin. Seeing pictures and actually touching a living man were two different things; he fascinated her. He guided her hands to the most sensitive places on him, shuddering in pleasure at her touch. She leaned over to feel him with her lips, brush against him with her breasts. She tentatively placed her mouth on him, not sure what to do; and found the size of him difficult. Instead, she nibbled carefully with her teeth around his edges, which brought moans of appreciation from him.

He kissed her on her mouth fervently now, as his desire burned. He brought her hands to the tips of his sensitive ears. She rubbed and teased him there with her fingertips. The sweetness of his skin she tasted with both her lips and her tongue. His moans grew.

Heat was rising in her once again, as she lay back and reached out to him. He moved his body onto hers, allowing her to feel him teasing at her entrance, and between her legs. She was leaking with wetness and want. He spoke softly to her. "Anastasia, this may hurt you at first, but the hurt will pass quickly. Are you ready?" She nodded.

He ensured that her wetness coated him, then he placed himself at her entrance and tilted her hips up. Looking into her eyes, he began to push incrementally and relentlessly into her. He followed every flicker of emotion, as he gave her his body and took hers for his own. His flaxen hair draped over her, caressing her softly. She inhaled sharply, as he broke past the last of her resistance. "It is only a little uncomfortable," she said, her eyes full of trust. He held still, giving her time to adjust to him, and soothed her. "It will get better very soon, I promise you. I have you, I will not let you go." He continued to kiss her throat, and then took a breast into his mouth, suckling on it. As she relaxed and accepted him, she arched her back into these caresses, realizing then the feel of her subtle movements against him, and the pleasure of it. Rocking her hips, she sought more of him. Understanding that he could resume now, he carefully began moving inside of her. Slowly, he sheathed himself fully in her body.

The sensation was unimaginable. Her hips arched into him at every thrust. Every one of his movements was bringing her to a mystery about which she had long wondered. Her tightness around him was driving him almost mad, as he gave his all to ensure that her first time was careful and gentle. Clinging to his back, she pushed herself onto him as much as she could. She was so very close.

He could endure it no more. Like a dam bursting, Thranduil filled her with a torrent of his seed, as he groaned. The heat of it and his last thrusts pulled her after him, as she writhed and cried out from the intense pleasure. Tears streamed down her face. "I did not know anything could feel like that," she said. He traced his hands down her body, cherishing the feel of her underneath him. She was now his, for the rest of her days.

He kissed her tears away, enthralled with her loveliness. "This union was joyous, Ani. In the customs of my people, we are wed. I am grateful to you, for what you have given and for ending my loneliness. I love you, and will care for you, always."

She bored into his eyes with her gaze and said only, "You have saved me, Thranduil. I do not understand why you wanted me, but I am grateful that you did. I love you, and am yours."

He kissed her, and desire came to her once again. She looked confused. "Is that...normal? To want this again so soon?"

He laughed. "I already want my wife again, so it is safe to say that you are no less normal than I am."

No less normal...she thought this was hilarious, and began laughing. The sound was rich, like bells. Love filled his heart, and she saw his expression, angelic and fair. "What is it, my King?"

"I have seen you smile, Ani, but I have never really heard you laugh until now. The sound is lovely." She sat up, smiling, and took his hands.

"On that subject, may we talk for awhile?" Her face grew more serious.

"Of course, what is it?"

She searched for the right words. "I know you can heal. You... did something...to my mind, tonight?"

"I did."

"Am I...cured, of what is wrong with me? Or will it come back again? I would like to be prepared for...what comes next."

He said slowly, "I am not certain, Ani. I do not understand the full origin of what happened to you. But I can help you manage it, if not eliminate it altogether. And, I want to apologize. I have given you my forgiveness, for what you tried to do. I listened to your words. But I only shared tonight in what you actually feel. I tried to imagine living with that, for a lifetime and with no hope. While I still cannot be at peace with what you chose to do, I perhaps understand far better why. I will never be far from you, to help you now."

She wrapped her arms around him in gratitude. "Thank you, Thranduil. It means a great deal that you would acknowledge what I have endured. I do not know where I go now. I never had hope, until you found me. I do not even know who I am, in the absence of this illness. It defined me. With it or without it, I will have to discover a new life, with you. I ask for your patience. You will have the best that I can give."

It was very late now, and they returned to sleep, with his body protectively entwined around hers.

When she woke, she turned to him, burning with want. He had been watching her.

"Please, would you?" she whispered, tugging gently at his body. She wanted to feel him again, inside of her. He reached down to caress between her legs and found her soaked. "Is this for me, Ani?" he teased, pushing his finger into her folds. She moaned. He would torment her later, he thought. Right now she was too new, and he understood her hunger. Already he was hard for her, and mounted her. Once again he pushed into her gently, this time finding nothing but the incredible tightness of her walls. "I was very gentle, your first time, Ani. I will give you more, now. If I hurt you, you must tell me right away." She nodded. Backing almost out of her, he began to deliver long, firm strokes that were more frequent than what he'd done yesterday. With each push she moaned softly, arching her hips to meet him. A flush spread enticingly over her chest as he spread her legs wider with his body. "Please, more," she implored. He was only too happy to comply. He thrust into her vigorously, not able to get enough of her silken tightness. She clung to him, in ecstasy from his attentions. Suddenly he dropped down, changing his angle, and she whimpered as he held her in that place just before climax begins. He stopped moving his length inside of her, drawing this out, only to thrust with firmness once the contractions of her orgasm began. His climax poured into her.

"Thranduil", she cried out, fully understanding a feeling of happiness for the first time in her life.


	6. Chapter 6

For the next two weeks, Thranduil worked to make up for every pleasure lost to her previously. He loved her with a stamina no human man possessed, guiding her through the pleasure of each touch, each position. He taught her how to please him as well, and found her to be an eager pupil. When she grew shy about the magnitude of her newly awakened desire, he would not hear of it. "I would have you crave me with every waking moment, Ani. Never feel ashamed of your need." He kept a careful watch over her, ensuring she remained happy and well.

Thranduil saw her looking wistfully out the window again, one sunny afternoon. "What is it, Ani?" Without turning, she replied. "I would like to see your roses again, Thranduil. But I struggle with knowing that the place where they grow has become a bad memory for me. I miss seeing flowers."

He felt sorry for her. "Come then, with me. We will see what can be done for you." They walked hand in hand under the sunny canopy, as three ravens cavorted ahead of them on the path. "That isn't exactly news," she muttered under her breath, amused. They reached the flowers, and she appreciated their scent and the rich color. "Why do you grow them, my Lord? It is not often that I have encountered a man who enjoys these."

"I have always appreciated roses. My mother loved them, and from earliest childhood I remember her delight in them. They came to be my delight as well. They have lifted my spirits, through dark times and light."

"That is a beautiful sentiment", she said. "Perhaps I understand better now, why my cutting them offended you."

He smiled. "That is in the past. You may have them whenever you wish, now. I love you, and would not begrudge you these."

She smiled wanly. "Perhaps at another time. It is still...difficult."

"Ani, what is needed is to create a new memory, to drive off the one that troubles you. Close your eyes, now, and do not open them until I tell you."

Without further explanation, he began to kiss her, gently reaching into the folds of her tunic to take her breast. Instantly, the promise of the pleasure he would give her pushed away all other thoughts. She responded to him eagerly. Keeping her distracted, he spread his outer robe at the exact place she tried to claim her life, and laid her down. He pushed up her skirts to pleasure her, and whilst she moaned from each gentle touch on her sensitive skin, he released his straining manhood. He joined their bodies together, and soon she cried out for him with each thrust. When he knew she was seconds from her climax, he whispered, "You may open your eyes now." With a strangled groan, he released himself into her warmth. As she took this from him and her own pleasure washed over her, she saw the tree above. One more had joined the three, and four pairs of glittering black eyes looked down at her intently. For a minute, she was caught in the aftermath of her passion, but she did not have long to dwell in the rosy glow before her insides lurched.

"Oh... my." Her eyes grew wide as saucers, and she sat up. Reaching up, she hugged Thranduil to her, if only to buy herself a moment to compose the look on her face. Incredibly naive as it was, she had not considered that at the end of they day, they were having nearly incessant relations, and pregnancy had not even been considered. This was not necessarily a bad thing, it was just that not once in her life had she considered the word "mother" in any sentence about herself. And, it was so very soon. They had not yet been wed for even a month. She wanted to upbraid herself for her lack of practicality, but it seemed rather too late for that.

She kissed her husband tenderly, and stood up, turning to the birds. "You are certain?" Raucous cries filled the air.

Thranduil watched this exchange, baffled. But he knew better than to ask; she would not tell him. Sighing deeply, she looked around, and smiled at him, speaking slowly. "You have succeeded, Thranduil. There is indeed a new memory that has washed away the old. We should return now. It is...long past time, to tell you of the ravens."

"You cannot tell me here?" he asked. She considered. "How good is your memory?"

"Flawless."

As the jet black birds continued to jostle overhead, she raised her eyebrows. "Very well, then. Listen, and memorize:

One is for Ill News, Two is for Mirth. Three is a Wedding, Four is a Birth. Five is for Riches, Six is a Thief. Seven is a Journey, Eight is for Grief. Nine is a Secret, Ten is for Sorrow. Eleven is for Love, Twelve is Joy for Tomorrow.

I was born into the words of this rhyme, though I do not know how or why. All my life they have been with me; tricking, guiding, warning, and predicting. And under them, I have walked between life and death. I have refused to explain them to anyone, until now. I am not unaware that others can observe them. But all my life, I have kept this one secret, only for myself."

Thranduil's brows knitted. "Ani, how does it work, exactly, between you and them? For example, what just happened now?"

"Well, it can depend. If you will allow me, I think I should address your second question last," she said softly. "The day you found me here, dying, there were eight of them, Grief. But as I was fading, just before you spoke to me, two had left. A Thief. I thought they meant criticism for the roses I had taken from you, but they tricked me. You were the thief; you robbed me of my death. The day I walked with you in the woods, I cried and would not tell you why. There were Twelve, a joyful future, with you. They had never been twelve, ever before. It is things like...that." She cleared her throat, looking down before looking up into his eyes again, and taking his hands. She spoke the next words very softly and gently, with a look of great tenderness on her face. "You can count, Thranduil? There have never been four before, either."

She waited patiently, until he made the connection. His eyes widened. "But Ani, Elves know at the moment new life is conceived. We can see the spirit, the fëa, of the new life within the womb."

"They are never wrong, and they predict as well as tell. May we walk back, now?" she asked.

Arm in arm they returned, the four birds cavorting as they followed some distance behind them. As they neared their chamber door, Ani lurched suddenly, steadying herself against him as he caught her to break her fall. "I should sit down. Suddenly I feel incredibly tired," she said.

"Ani, I want you to lie down, please." His voice held an edge of command to it, as he looked at her. She obliged him. He placed his hand over her abdomen, his eyes closing. When he opened them again, tears streamed down his cheeks.

"My Lord, what is wrong?"

A look of complete joy had spread across his face. "I did not believe you, but it is true. You have just conceived our child. I could not have asked for a greater happiness or blessing." He lifted her into his arms, holding her tightly, as he wept for joy.

He was so very, very happy, she thought. It would be far harder for her to reach the same level of elation. It had not sunk in yet. She had him, and knew it would be alright in the end...it would just take time to adjust. She kissed him tenderly, stroking his hair, chuckling. "Your happiness means everything to me, Thranduil. To see your joy is all I could wish for." And she meant it.

"Ani, this does not please you?" he asked, incredulous.

She smiled. "On some level, yes, it does. Please realize, how new this is for me. In all my life, I have never given a single thought to being a mother before this hour, Thranduil. I will need your support and your patience. I love you, and to see your joy in this means a very great deal to me. Could I ask you, please, to rub my back?"

He removed her tunic and loosened her skirt, helping her to lie on her stomach. The ravens looked up at him from the skin of her back.

"And what then, of these ravens?" He traced the circle of the birds on her skin with his fingers, before he began to slowly caress and knead her muscles.

"The tattoo? One raven stands out, Ill News...but in some versions of the rhyme, One is also for Sorrow. Around the one raven are seven more, in an unbroken circle, meaning a Journey. There are eight altogether, Grief. Sorrow and grief have defined my life, but the journey yet continues."

Thranduil reflected on this. It was perhaps more than time to ask further questions about her past.. "Ani, how old are you, in earth years?"

She grew quiet. "I do not know, Thranduil. But...there is much I do not know about myself, and I have long wondered how much of what little I was told is actually true. I have papers that make no sense, and when I have been taken by doctors, they have said different things. I have tried to stay away from people, because I have been taken forcibly by those wishing to treat my illness. Nothing has worked, some things have harmed me further, and no one knows what to make of me. Please do not think I am mad for what I am about to say. I have had...experiences...that left me feeling like I lost...time. And memories. And it has happened more than once. I have felt like something about me is not normal, and I don't just mean the mental illness or the ravens. I wish I could tell you more. I know you can search my mind, if you wish. If by this you can understand more than I, please do."

He wanted to move away from this topic...he needed to think. "I will keep it in mind, Ani. Thank you, for what you have shared with me."

Sighing softly from the bliss of his touches, she was soon asleep.

Thranduil remained near her, reflecting on her words. And the words of Liam. Had she come back to him, half Elven, one of his own people? And if so, what had been done to her, to leave her mind so badly broken? He cursed Beriadanwen once again, for the legacy her disobedience had sown. If Anastasia was in fact her daughter, he had failed her utterly by leaving her to a life of torment away from her own kind...though he could not have known. He sobered. It had been over three hundred years, since Beriadanwen had been banished. That Ani could have floundered in the world, all this time in great pain and with damaged memories, was almost unthinkable. His shoulders sagged. To find the whole truth, he would indeed have to plumb the depths of her mind, and risk bringing to daylight whatever might be found there...with her now newly pregnant.

A soft knock came at the door. It was Galion. "These arrived for you, my King, from Liam." Placing the packages on the King's desk, he bowed deeply, and retreated.

While Ani slept, Thranduil carefully opened the packages to see the books.

When she woke much later, she felt more rested. Placing her hand over her abdomen, she remembered. The thought was still unsettling, but the knowledge that she could give him something he deeply desired, after all he had done for her, brought a sense of contentment. He saw the movement of her arm, and went to her, placing his hand over her own. She looked up at him, taking in his virile beauty. The late afternoon sun on his alabaster skin, the sheen of his hair, and the depths of his blue eyes. How she could have been so fortunate, she still did not understand. He drew her up next to him, and held her close.

"I have a surprise for you, Ani."

"You baked me cookies?" she teased, smiling at him. That was unlikely, though they did sound good.

"No," he laughed. "Come and see." He led her over to the stack of books. "They are for you."

She looked eagerly through the pile. It was the most lovely edition she'd ever seen of an illustrated Complete Works of Shakespeare, and bound collections of Melville and Poe. The Dickens novels were, mercifully, individual volumes. And because someone could connect the dots, there were several other works of English and American literature, many of which she had never before read. Her eyes shone with appreciation as she reached to embrace him.

"I know you asked for what I would like, but that still makes this the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me. I thank you, Thranduil, so much."

He sat in his chair. "Come, choose something to read to me. I would like nothing better." Unhesitatingly, she brought Shakespeare, and sat in his lap. They laughed, as he helped her find a way to fit herself and the unwieldy tome into a comfortable position, but she was settled in the end. Resting in his arms, she slowly and carefully read some of the Sonnets to him. He enjoyed them greatly, realizing that his generous impulse would in the end be for more than just her...he'd no idea, that the Edain had such deep and beautiful sentiments.

Finishing for a time, she closed the book. "I have so many stories I can share with you now, Thranduil. This is a such a wonderful gift." He stroked her hair. "Could I ask you, all the books in your library, what language is that? The script is beautiful."

"It is called Sindarin. It is one of the Elvish languages."

"Would you say something in it, please?"

"Gi melin, losto vae." (I love you, sweet dreams)

Ani frowned, and spoke: "Losto vae...Iellig, losto vae. Boe annin gwad. Novaer." (Sweet dreams...Daughter, sweet dreams. I must go. Farewell.)

Thranduil's mouth opened in astonishment. "Ani, how do you know that?"

Confused, she looked at him. "It is a memory I always thought to be nonsense words. In my mind, I hear it in a woman's voice. It means something?"

"Yes," he said, afraid to say more. Did he need more proof than what he had just received, of the truth of Liam's story?

This half answer did not escape her notice. At that moment, eight ravens actually flew into the room, lighting on the floor. A ninth came, and took the windowsill with a raucous cry. And then all the birds looked at her, utterly quiet. This was unprecedented; as so many things seemed to be, lately.

Ani looked at the corvids fixedly, as she tried to digest what was happening. Slowly turning to face him, with some hardness in her expression, she locked eyes with him and waited. His usual self-assurance was gone, as she read the bewilderment and struggle in his eyes. When he did not speak, she looked away.

"You have shown me kindness and patience, Thranduil. You granted me the favor of allowing me the time in which to tell you my own secret. I can give you no less. But understand that all secrets become known in time, and that until they are, something will lie between us. You are keeping something from me, that is about me. I can face anything, however bad, if you are at my side to help me." She stood up and left his lap, kissing him chastely on the mouth. "I love you." Turning, she said to the birds: "I am certain you have something else to do, friends." With many hoarse mutterings, they hopped out and flew away, each in turn.

The heavy book she returned to the stack on his desk. Without looking at him, she said, "Please, would you allow me to go to the other room? I wish to bathe."

"You may go," he whispered, and watched her as she left.

Mechanically, she unbound her hair and stripped off her clothes, feeling more than ever that there was something wrong with her, wrong about her. Why would she know words in his language? Nothing she could construct, even by way of her imagination, offered an answer. She let herself float on her back in the steaming water, idly drifting around. Perhaps he did not wish to tell her, because she was so unstable. For that, she could not fault him, but what memories she did have seemed to center around no one ever telling her anything. Had she been bad, committed crimes against others? What had she done to deserve always being isolated from any truth about herself? Maybe it was wrong of her to question, maybe she should not have spoken to him thus. Yet the ravens would not have come in such a manner, had it not been important. Her confusion and sense of shame felt hard to endure just now, but endure it she must.

So lost in thought was she that Thranduil's entrance into the pool slipped her notice until strong arms came underneath her, righting her so he could speak.

He spoke very slowly. "Ani. It is now my turn to have something difficult to say. I am afraid to tell you what I have learned since we wed, in so many ways. I fear you will listen and not forgive me, I fear that where this will lead will wholly break your mind. I fear for the well being of our child, and I fear that I will lose you. There is a little that I know, and more that I do not. What do I do? I love you, Ani. It is wrong to keep these things from you, yet I am still afraid. Every day since you came to me, I have lived in dread of losing you to your illness, while knowing that I must also find it in myself to fully trust you."

Her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, my Lord, even for saying this much. I did not expect good news; that is too rare a thing. But with your gifts of healing, I do not believe there is going to be a pain or a difficulty you cannot help me overcome. All I ask for is honesty, which so few have ever given me, apparently. I cannot speak to where your secret will take us, but I can tell you that I will not leave you, and that I would forgive you anything."

"Then let me return with you. To stay in hot water too long is not good for the baby." She nodded.

He dried both of them, and brought her into their bed. He held her against his skin as he told her everything he knew, and everything he suspected. Reaching his hands to her face, his fingers found the tips of her ears, and he chanted a different kind of healing spell. It did not surprise him, when her scarred ears restored themselves to an Elven appearance. "If there was any doubt," he said, "this dispels it. You are half Elven, Ani. You have lived a very long time on this world, by human standards."

She felt her ears, and shook her head. "In a way, this is no stranger than anything else has been. But there is much I do not understand, Thranduil. When will I die? I do not know what it means, to be one of your kind. Or half of one."

"You will not age or die," he explained carefully, "unless you choose the mortal life of the Edain, the humans, for your own. Your mother, even had she not faded away, made this choice when she coupled with a human man. You would have to forsake me, and firmly and repeatedly voice the desire to choose a mortal life. I am immortal, as are you, unless you turn from this gift."

"And our child will have the same?"

"Yes. What I cannot discover, unless perhaps we delve further, is why your memories are missing, and what the origin of the damage to your mind was. I will be honest, I fear to know. Only unimaginable trauma could have done this to you, and learning its exact manner may prove to be unwise. Yet everything was taken from you, and I will respect your decision, though I advise against it. That you are returned to me, both as my subject and one who I love and have taken to wife, are enough for me."

She considered, securely held in his arms. "Since the night of our marriage, I have not suffered. I will make a different choice from that of my mother, and accept all of your counsel. I have no memory of what you tell me. While I am sorry for what happened to her, I do not hold you to blame. You did what you must, to protect your people and your life in this place. There is a saying in the outside world, 'Leave well enough alone.' You have given me every happiness. We are to start a family. I will build my memories from here on out, with you." He embraced her tightly, his fears relieved.

"Can I ask you, though, what did she look like? Am I like her in appearance at all?"

"You have a similar figure, and I see some of her face in you. But her coloring was different; she had brown hair and hazel eyes." Ani nodded. "Thank you." There was no way to know more; whoever her father might have been was lost to time.

"Anastasia, you have more than earned to be released from your promises to me as my captive. I give you the freedom to go where you will in this realm, with or without me. You will take your place among us, few though we are now. It will be my duty to teach you the ways of our kind. I command you only to obey what is laid on all here, my most absolute law. We do not cross the borders into the outer world. Even I, who retain the authority to do as I must, would only leave at direst need. As long as you remain within the woods of Lasgalen, you are under my protection."

"I promise you, to obey this command. And I thank you, with all that I am, for your honesty toward me and for your trust."

He kissed her, not so chastely. "You are going to cause further trouble," she said, smiling. "Perhaps," he said. "But before I do, there is something else." He produced an exquisite ring, set with green gems in among birch leaves wrought of silver and gold, and placed it on her finger. "Our somewhat spontaneous joining did not allow me the time to have this for you, when we wed," he explained. "It is the customary gift of a husband to his wife, among us. Please accept it from me now."

A single tear rolled down her cheek. "It is beautiful, and reminds me of your woods. And you. I will cherish it."

As the weeks and months wore on, he guided her through her pregnancy. When the nausea came, he quelled it. She found delight in light work in the vegetable gardens. Her term would be twelve months, not the nine of human women. For the first ten months, she remained active, and they spent many happy days as he taught her the forest paths and their many secrets. Often two ravens, or four, or eleven, would cavort around them as they walked. As the child within her grew heavy, she kept more to their rooms, walking with him mostly through the halls of the Palace. Smiles greeted them at every turn. It had been a very long time since the birth of a new elfling, and all around were eager to welcome the child. They spent much time with her resting in his arms, reading to him while he eased her sore back or swollen feet. Her changing moods had not been too difficult for her, so well did he care for her. A way was found to lower the temperature of the bathing pool, so that it was safe for her to spend more time in it, which also eased her discomfort.

One fine day when she was very far along, she asked to walk in the woods, even a short distance. "Please," she asked him. "I feel like a caged canary; I had more time outside when I was your prisoner", she teased him. He conceded, though he had become almost annoyingly overprotective of her in her final weeks. They had not gone far when she inhaled sharply and leaned hard on his arm. "We should return," he said, his eyebrows knitted in a frown.

She sighed in exasperation. "We will return if another one happens before we reach your roses. Otherwise, I intend to have my walk. Unless there is something you have not told me about Elvish pregnancy and birth, the odds of our child flying out of my body in the next hour are dim indeed."

"But Anastasia, I..."

"THRANDUIL. I give my word that if the next contraction happens during this walk, I will immediately allow you to carry me back in your arms." Her green eyes glowered at him so fiercely that he backed down. At one time he had been the greatest warrior of the world, yet he concluded it was perhaps better to face an army than a provoked pregnant woman. He meekly offered his arm to her again, and they continued. She enjoyed the flowers for a time, asking him to cut a few for her to take back with them, and then another sharp pang caused her to lean on him for support.

"I can still walk, but I will honor my promise. We can return by whatever means of conveyance you desire." He did not hesitate to sweep her into his arms and swiftly walk back to the palace. With her arms around his neck, holding her flowers, she smiled, and kissed his cheek. "Did I ever tell you that you are beautiful when you are worried and overprotective?"

In spite of himself he smiled at her, and his blue eyes sparkled in anticipation. "I love you, Thranduil," she said. "You have taken away many of the burdens of carrying our child, and I want you to know that I am grateful." He had never looked more appealing to her than now, as she saw every way in which he cared for and protected her. She nestled into him as he carried her, feeling as content as possible in his arms. "As you would not be in this circumstance without my causing it, it seemed fair," he teased, making her laugh.

He would not leave her for a moment, from then on out. He watched her every minute as she tried to rest and sleep at his insistence, using his gift of healing to help keep the contractions from becoming too painful. By the following morning, they were coming in earnest. He held her as she walked with him, back and forth between the bedchamber and the bathing room. Her water broke as they walked around the pool, and soon her labor became constant. He held her every moment, helping her breathe, keeping her discomfort in check. He kept her in the pool, supporting her as the water helped keep her more comfortable. The sight of her, tired, perspiring, as he felt the powerful pushing of her womb and the straining of her body as she struggled to bring forth his child was one of the most compelling things he had ever seen. Power and vigor had always been his, but in this, he was a bystander. He looked on to discover that she had strength of her own that he could not have imagined.

"Thranduil," she said, panting, "I am so tired." He held her tighter. "You are very strong, Anastasia, and you are almost there. When the next one comes, you must push. I will help you. You are doing so well, and I am very proud of you." He kissed her and soothed her as she tried to catch her breath.

"Push, Ani, as hard as you can," he encouraged. The sensation of pressure within her was indescribable. She cried out as she bore down with all her might, gasping for air when she could do so no longer. Thranduil reached down to feel the head of their child. "Breathe, Anastasia. We are very close now. You will deliver the baby's head on the next push." He moved them into much shallower water, helping her to kneel. When the next contraction came, she yelled with enough force to split his ears as she clung desperately to him, and pushed against the pressure within her. The baby's head, with thin wisps of blond hair, was now visible to him. "Help me," she begged him. He could see she was nearly spent. "It is all but done, Ani. There only need be one more push. I have you. You are so, so beautiful."

With one final yell she gave everything she had, and Thranduil caught the body of his daughter as Ani birthed her with tremendous force. He guided the little one out of the water and carefully onto her mother, watching the cord, as he held Ani in his arms. "We have a daughter, Ani," he said, crying for joy. When he was certain nothing was tangled or twisted, he placed the infant fully at Ani's breast. Lifting his wife softly onto waiting towels, he soon bundled his wife and child back to their bedchamber. Ani saw that the child was breathing and moving normally, and held her carefully but firmly. Tears streamed down her cheeks in her exhaustion. Her gratitude for his attentions soared. She had no strength left, and to see him capably place her in the bed on clean towels, cover them, and help the baby to her breast to nurse was a relief. The umbilical cord still pulsed with the blood that was yet moving into the baby. As she felt the little girl pull at her breast for the first time, relaxation came over her. She watched Thranduil check her and heal her of the small injuries from the birth. When the cord was finally done pulsing, he produced thin silk line with which to tie it off in two places, and cut it with a very sharp knife.

"Thranduil, can I please have a rose, to smell?" She asked him in an exhausted whisper. He handed her one, smiling, as she held it to her nose.

Soon her placenta was delivered, and he gently cleaned her afterward. Her childbed continued to contract, causing some discomfort. Double checking that all was well with her and the infant, he smiled mischievously at her. Gently he spread her legs and placed his mouth on her, lapping at her sensitive nub. Her womb responded swiftly, and still he kept the contractions of it from becoming uncomfortable. He pleasured her with all his skill, knowing the baby's nursing would only help his cause. With a cry of delight, her orgasm broke over her, further helping to cleanse her and encourage her insides to return to normal. Ani slipped away in sleep, and soon the satisfied baby followed. When he had cared for everything, he joined them in bed, cradling his sleeping wife and infant into light blankets in his arms. He would never forget this precious moment. "I love both of you," he said softly, lightly stroking the cheek of his daughter. He allowed himself to join them, sleeping lightly.

Ani stirred some hours later, to find her little daughter's tiny fingers clasped around the stem of the rose.

"What will you call her, Ani?" Thranduil asked, his eyes full of love.

"She has already chosen, my Lord. I took your roses without permission, once. Now I give you a rose, in thanks for your many gifts to me."

Their eyes met, and at the same time, each said to the other "Meril."

Their little girl grew quickly, and was the delight of the Palace. She had her father's flaxen hair, but her mother's eyes. One day as the three of them walked in the forest and little Meril ran on ahead, the ravens came to her. Two alighted on either side of her, playing with her as she walked toward them only to have them hop out of her reach, but then close the distance again, teasing her. She clapped with delight, looking back at her Adar and Naneth. As they laughed with her and Thranduil picked her up high into his arms, twelve came down and circled them, hopping and creating an utter cacophony with their raspy voices. He bent down to kiss his wife, who smiled and said, "Our Rose and the ravens, Thranduil. Could you ever have imagined?"

"No, I could not have, Ani. What I cannot imagine now is my life without them, and all they have brought to me." She took his hand, as they continued their walk, with Meril's laughter pealing through the trees.


End file.
